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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29341104">Hollow Knight One-Shots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycheTerminal/pseuds/psycheTerminal'>psycheTerminal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hollow Knight (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Death, Deleted Scenes, Gen, Isolation, Loss, One Shot, Sad, Survivor Guilt, ask box fics, galakma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:40:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,517</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29341104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/psycheTerminal/pseuds/psycheTerminal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shots and deleted scenes I post to Tumblr. 1. Grimm grows very concerned for Ghost and decides to confront the little vessel. (Askbox) 2. Herrah makes her request. (Deleted Scene) 3. A mad bug details a few possible outcomes that never come. 4. Sealed Siblings introspective 5. Desolation of Dirtmouth 6. Fare-thee-well, Grimmchild. 7. Hornet in Deepnest with an empty mask. 8. Ghost confronts the living dead.</p><p>Requests may be taken.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Grimm is a Concerned Father</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>limesun  asked:</p><p>I HAVE AN IDEA!!! When Ghost gets frustrated they go Dance with Grimm bcs his fight and presence is actually pretty grounding to them. But they been going too much there and Grimm getting worried about them</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The little dancer Grimm had been summoned by seemed to take the ritual seriously, collecting the flames and fostering his child upon their person. He rested out of sight; his life was nearing its end and outside the dance, he had increasingly less energy. He needed to sustain his mortal shell for until the Grimmchild was ready to take up his burden.</p><p>All the exhaustion of his long years fell away in the joy of the dance where sense and reason could be thrown away for the sake of the audience. The small knight came so very often, silent and yet unyielding. Trying again and again, even when they left behind the little void shade that only saw their shell upon return.</p><p>They had, technically completed the ritual. The usual thing would be to pack up and move on to the next stop. Some reasoning drove Grimm to stay. He knew what waited below in chains. A carrion moth like himself could always smell when things were close to expiration, but even watching as either the Radiance prevailed or died was not his reason.</p><p>He heard small steps as the ghost-leaving warrior came to him, standing patiently. He appeared in a trick of partially magic, partially slight of hand before the little knight. "Do you wish to battle me again, dear friend? For pleasure or for geo, the choice is yours."</p><p>Their nail came out, a nod. Their mask was inscrutable as usual. This was the third time they had approached Grimm this cycle. He had quietly approached Devine and had asked her if the little knight had something they wanted to buy from her, but no. They had bought all three of the charms she had eaten already and sent a mate to her that she had enjoyed eating in the end. It was her one desire that held her back from joining his troupe fully, which he did not begrudge her for. He had even checked in on the two shopkeepers in Dirtmouth on if they held some big purchase the knight might like but no. Greed didn't seem to be a motive for his friend.</p><p>The little knight didn't need the geo.</p><p>That had left Grimm at a loss. They seemed to fight beautifully, yet their void-soaked heart didn't seem to be in it either. There was certainly drive, but no passion. He didn't fight seemingly for the pleasure of it either.</p><p>He obliged the fight this time. The knight was distracted and was surprised by Grimm when instead of the killing blow on their void-leaking form, heaving in pain and weak, the Troupe-Master picked them up instead.</p><p>Grimm pulled away the shining nail and simply hugged the little knight. The wavering turned into shuddering movements of silence. He felt droplets of void as well as the miasma around the knight on his shoulder. He could feel the small one's destiny and choice weighing heavily on their shoulders. Finally, he set them down once the silent sobbing had eased. They were so terribly young in form, though aging was halted in Hallownest for those in the kingdom proper, not to mention the effect of the void on the knight. Grimm doubted they were as young as they seemed, but that they weren't mature of heart either.</p><p>"Come. I have some parchments and a quill you can borrow. Tell me what drives you to throw yourself at me once more. I can listen and perhaps give advice my friend. You have done much for so little in return! A discerning eye and a shoulder to cry on is nothing next to the service you have rendered." Grimm spoke with an easy smile, hiding the worries he still had.</p><p>He brought the knight to the desk and the story the knight spilled was something that he had heard in many lives from survivors of dead kingdoms and civilizations. Curses, prisons, seals and required murder. Each time the knight had come, some conundrum had been posed. Some seemingly impossible thing had stood in their way, like facing Uumuu or figuring out where the Dreamer of Deepnest was or some other problem over the course of their adventure.</p><p>What troubled him most was how the knight wrote about their own self.</p><p>It. This thing. This shell. Grimm held his tongue for once until the knight got it all out. A friend had died at the Blue Lake. They wanted to believe Quirrel was alive, but their nail... They understood what that had <em>meant</em>. The lost ones they had to fight or find as corpses. The thing that had stolen the grubs. How the nailsmith asked them to slay them.</p><p>Grimm knelt as the knight's tears came once more. "My friend. Look at me. Look at me and listen. None of this... Nothing about Hallownest here is your fault. People were dying before your return. People asked you things they had no right to and it's alright that it weighs on you so. You are burdened for the sins of the lost ruler here, not your own. You couldn't stop the way the magic stopped keeping your friend alive. Sparing the nailsmith was the right thing to do in this broken place. Seek out the people who have helped and supported here, not some wily Troupe Master who feeds off of fear and despair. By my own nature, I too will die and live on through the Nightmare Heart, leaving the Troupe to the Grimmchild you raise so splendidly. But there will be those here that care about you here, even once I am gone. Perhaps you and I shall even meet again as higher beings alike in nature, that possibility remains to you. But fighting me in your grief and frustration cannot fix those things." He explained, patiently... And less theatrically than usual.</p><p>"You proved yourself worthy, give yourself the respect you've earned, knight. You are more than your origins or your failures. It is in your returns and temerity that you are admirable. You never know when to give up and quit." He smiled broadly.</p><p>The knight made a gesture. "Yes. You may permanently die still or be claimed by the trap that perpetrates this place. It is entirely possible. Given your fight ahead and your performances past, I believe you have reason to hope to find success for the struggle ahead. I will stay to watch how it all unfolds. You can come to me, tell me what you have seen or I shall visit your mausoleum and pay my respects. That much I can linger for." Grimm smiled broadly, showing off his fangs.</p><p>He cannot promise any more and it makes his chest ache. He cannot stay forever here. The Nightmare Heart makes its demands upon his body and self that he cannot deny.</p><p>The little knight touched his face briefly, bowed his head and headed off to rest, after all-Grimm had still thrashed them to a breath of their life.</p><p>The knight did not challenge him again, but they did come with tea a time or two.</p><p>When the world of dreams began to quake and quiver, he knew that he only needed wait a very little more time for the result of it all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Pale King is Cornered</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Deleted scene slightly reworked to stand on its own.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His most mortal enemy was coming to the castle and he had no idea what she would even ask for, only that she wanted to come under a truce banner to ask him mask to mask, as it was an extremely personal request. He wondered if it would be immortality. She would be sorely disappointed in his reaction. His lady wife had received her while he'd washed the stains of working with the void from his hands. Black faded slowly to grey. Then slowly, the claws reached white once more-but not the softer pads underneath. He sighed. Good enough, he didn't want to wash in soul-infused spring water all day, Herrah might lose her patience.</p><p></p><div class="media-holder media-holder-draggable media-holder-hr">
  <hr class="tmblr-truncated"/>
</div><p>He blinked several times once he walked into the solar where his wife took her guests, one of the few rooms that weren't made entirely to his wishes. She rested on the bench, the lady Root entangled around the unflappable spider's body. He kept his body language and tone very neutral. "Good cycle to you, Herrah the Beast. We are pleased to see you well." </p><p>She harrumphed. "Doubtful. You wished someone with a great will to serve as the last of your seal on the dreamers. You reached out to me, despite our people working very hard at killing each other for generations. That's some absolute desperation. I assumed when you accepted my coming here, that I could essentially name my terms. Some are political and my demands of you stopping construction on my damn territory where you knew full well that unintelligent pests resided that give my own people trouble. I refuse to order my people to stop resisting the intrusion into Deepnest. So it's in your best interests that you just. Give that up. Pull your people out before more innocent bugs die to your damn pride." She snarled.</p><p>"Done." He stated evenly. "What is so important that you couldn't write this in a message?"</p><p>She sipped at her tea, letting him wait with no seeming mind about the White Queen embracing her. "I actually spoke to your lady wife first about it. She was delighted at the request and asked to sit in for the process. So long as it is done, I don't mind." Herrah sounded smug as she spoke, as if her request was already assured. </p><p>This was giving Wyrm a migraine. He rubbed his temples. "What. Do you want, Herrah." He ground out.</p><p>"The same as any mortal leader without immortality would: someone to succeed them someday. If I to be am your dreamer, I have no time to find a mate or make arrangements of who among my closest lieutenants are the ideal candidates. Give me a child of your loins. She'll be a promise of peace between the bugs of Hallownest and the beasts of Deepnest."  Herrah informed him. "You can school her in being a leader. I can fault you in many things, Wyrm. A leader who cares about his people is not one of those things."</p><p>He froze in place, thoughtless as the request filtered to his understanding. "You're serious."</p><p>"Entirely. I believe I can stay for a season so you can make your decision and if you should find my terms agreeable, give enough time to assure a child is born."</p><p>He takes a moment to use his foresight on what the results could be. In all, a singular child who resembles neither in shell, resembles both in spirit. A noble young woman in red cloak, needle in hand, defending the people and even standing in his defense. There is no love lost there, but she isn't a threat. He blinked several times, rubbing his head as pain seemed to tunnel through between his eyes to hollow out the space behind them. "It will be a girl. I agree." He turned, stumbling against the wall. "Urgh. She'll be a fine warrior of the needle, in a red mantle and a protector of the people." He told her.</p><p>"Oh, you know exactly how to please me. I will have Root show me to some quarters suitable for the attempt at brood." She spoke sarcastically. "Once this is done, the next time you'll have to see me extensively will be for the sealing and you'll get what you want at long last."</p><p>He forced himself to walk out of the room as the pain of the migraine blossomed into agony. He began coughing until liquid was expelled. Thick, viscous, yet seemingly quick to evaporate liquid spilled into his hands. </p><p>
  <em>No. It couldn’t be. <br/></em>
</p><p>His calculations showed he still should have more time before the moderate symptoms began to show. He knew he already had a mild case and that if he wasn't careful, the poisoning would grow worse in quick order, instead of the slow decline to a moderate, if still treatable case he’d planned on. It's why only he could make the constructs. Only his light could ward it off for any length of time. He still had no idea how the ancient civilization before Hallownest had managed living with the stuff without going extinct in a hurry, at least before their sudden collapse.</p><p>So what had caused this? Herrah had no exposure to the void. He'd had her discreetly checked on-but perhaps it was related to the vision he'd had with his foresight? His godly abilities couldn’t cause this. Could they? No. No. <em>No</em>.</p><p>So why was he choking up poisoned hemolymph? What was happening? The Pale King had no answers and he trembled on the floor of the palace in a haze of panic that would one day become his tomb, unable to see his foolishness.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A few shards of truth from a mad bug</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Might be the collector. Might not be.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There are many worlds, many possibilities. One must simply open their mind's eye to them. Look! See this world, where two silent troupe members wearing the masks of comedy and tragedy dance while the kingdom of Hallownest burns, while the king gnashes his teeth and moans. Silk is tightening around his neck. The lady Root exiled herself and lives though for how long, who can know? Perhaps Herrah and Monomon will have better luck here than the Pale King in dealing with the infection raging.</p><p>Look over here! There is an agreement made, barter agreed upon. The egg that will become the Gendered Child awaits the world that will not be kind to her. But the king ventures down below to check on his own sacrificed ones. He goes alone, an arrogant but also mournful presence. And he disappears! Oh my. Hallownest dissolves into internal chaos and the White Queen barely rules the Ancient Basin. Lurien never loved her, only the king and the raiding of both mantis and Deepnest opportunism makes the civil war more difficult.</p><p>It is the silent procession of a thousand voidborn that completely and utterly changes it all! They cannot speak. They can most certainly feel, think and find other means of communication, though! And the White Queen accepts them all. Dandelions of black, who crawl all over her and begin to not enforce her will but one quite different.</p><p>They do not represent pale beings.</p><p>They do not listen to the wishes of the White Queen.</p><p>They calm the riots with absolute merciless precision. Not with death. The rioters just sit there. They can be moved, but they don't speak anymore.</p><p>They force the mantises to back down. One silently challenges Herrah successfully and she takes it in as playmate for her daughter, though her advisers beg her not to. They were ever so helpful. They insert themselves and the people stop dreaming altogether aside from nightmares. Hurrah, the infection is gone! ... right?</p><p>Or did we just trade it for something else?</p><p>Oh yes. So many timelines. So many plays.</p><p>So if we pluck a few strings here and there, who is to know? Push an event here. Push an even there.</p><p>Aha! Here comes a new one. Perhaps I can tell you more about those visions above another time.</p><p>The gendered child is with her mother and visiting dignitaries at the Pale Court. Ah, but the curious girl has made her way to somewhere very inadvisable.</p><p>A wagon that rolls off for the abyss.</p><p>Won't Herrah be surprised hahahaha!</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Nevermore Evermore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sealed Siblings introspective. Inspired by the angst headcanon of Ghost from Tumblr user bugbeee! You rock!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The chains were in place, the small knight standing stoically in the bindings. The burning light was contained. It was cold in there and they vaguely pondered what had caused Hornet to try to help them. What had she cried out? They couldn't remember now. They could only blink occasional void tears for her and all the friends left behind, now safe for good or dead.</p><p>The stillness suited them fine. She was still breathing and that was fine, too. A spot of color to draw the eye that wasn't the sickly orange of the infection was fine. Giving their agonized sibling their deserved release from the pain was fine.</p><p>The knight was fine. Hornet was not conscious and the knight wondered if she would ever wake up. What she thought. Her needle lay not far from where her body lay. They reached out with a hand despite the bindings burning them and try to stretch a hand like their sibling could. They do and they drag Hornet's unconscious form closer.</p><p>They lean her against them. They try to hold her. The seals seem to not react to the knight holding Hornet so they do.</p><p>When the room begins to swim, they hold her. When they begin to feel burning, they hold her. When they realize they are hallucinating again, they hold her because Hornet is real. Her needle is real.</p><p>If she were a dream, she would have said something already. Anything. Scolded them for being sentimental with their body. Of maintaining their own vessel body and being watchful of the Old Light's influence. She would have screamed at the injustice of imprisonment she didn't deserve or accept it as the legacy her mother passed down to her. Was that how it worked?</p><p>Were they doing this right? They don't know. It's okay if it's not totally correct. They cuddle against the warmth of their half-sister unconsciously as they stand guard over the fading land of Hallownest. The Ghost of Hallownest does not notice her body slowly absorb their ichor black tears.</p><p>They don't need the Radiance's warmth to ease the aching feeling of loneliness they begin to feel when they space out or focus on strengthening the bindings for too long. They find a small comfort in the sleeping form of their brave sister. The one who found love enough to dive to her doom. The knight is grateful and it is a feeling the Radiance cannot do anything with.</p><p>The knight is never alone again.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Desolation of Dirtmouth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"How the village of Dirtmouth emptied, from Elderbug's point of view." Thanks for the request, vk.llet on the Daily Pure server!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Elderbug has been old for a long time, he has forgotten his original name (it was Lin), but he has not forgotten his friends, nor his occasional trips to visit an old friend in the resting grounds. It's quite the long and arduous trip and it's getting harder to do it. There's a seller of general goods, a provisions seller, a young woman, a few straggling families of wanderers who'd come from far away and had spoken few words but were polite enough. </p><p>It was a lovely town. He hugged the children, watching the young ones and listened to the impassioned Bretta who developed intense feelings for someone new each week. He watches wanderers curious about the land come in. They never come back. </p><p>The strange spider girl in red stops by sometimes, though she's very brusque. She mostly asks after the state of the town and their supplies. It runs tight and she returns sometimes with extra provisions when she can. She looks hungry when she comes to him with those kills but turns down any offer of sharing in the bounty.</p><p>She is kindly in her own fierce way. He wishes she would stay more. She seems terribly lonely and unsure how to handle people who don't wish her harm. He wonders where her parents are and he never asks. There are some things you don't ask because you know what probably happened if they are missing. You pray that they are simply dead.</p><p>You pray they aren't calling to you from below with glowing eyes. You pray to the Root and Wyrm that you just find a body to bury. Elderbug has not had good luck with such prayers. He stops looking below for the friends who stayed below, who wanted to stay on their land, curse and infection or no. He just accepts they are gone and mourns them quietly in his fashion.</p><p>The first to go is the provision seller. She said she wanted to go find the mantis village. She heard that though they are fierce, they are still sane. She says to assume she's dead in a season's time if she does not return and not to seek her.</p><p>She never returns. There's not even a body they find after everything is over.</p><p>The family with a teenage boy go down to scavenge for food, not wanting to risk going out into the wastelands to lose their minds for food. The mother returns, but only with enough energy to apologize. They at least can burn and bury her in the town graveyard. That boy heads down not a few days later and Elderbug hears him groaning and laughing. Greeting his mother and father. Elderbug knows what that means.</p><p>The other family decides to take one of the rare warded caravans out of Hallownest away. This is no place to raise a family after <em> that. </em> Nobody wants to think of the boy. </p><p>Bretta's parents head out to get supplies, with cobbled together protections and tell Bretta to be brave. They promise to return in a season's time. Surely, the City of Tears still has some untouched stores that withstood time due to the stasis? It was sound, at any case and food was tight with young Hornet not coming by as often and less hunters in town.</p><p>Elderbug still can grow and hunt enough for himself at least. He's mostly dependent on the garden and preserves he makes. He wants to teach Bretta but she keeps looking into the well. She is gone within days.</p><p>It's quieter. Sly's shop has a board over the door three days exactly after Bretta disappears into the well below. Sly hadn't even said goodbye.</p><p>It's now silent.</p><p>He stands out in the village near the bench day after day, hoping and yet never seeing any come out of the well down to Hallownest. Only fools going down to seek their death. What is the use of hoping for their return? What is the use of thinking anything but death and terrible things lurked down below.</p><p>He misses them. He misses talking to people.</p><p>He thinks that he can have a reprieve from this loneliness when Cornifer and Iselda arrive, but after setting up, the mapmaker heads down immediately and Iselda locks the door behind her, awkward in that house too small for her.</p><p>He wonders when Hallownest will call her and her husband down to their deaths.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Requiem for a Nightmare</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>requested by rat god of hell on the @daily-pure Discord server! “End of time interactions”/goodbyes</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A few orders. A meal to be enjoyed. A few words exchanged between his troupe and those that wanted assurance. He's all charm and smiles. They are not afraid. He is not either. They are simply… sad. Though they are all the same name, it is never </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>the same. New things to learn, new cultures to learn, new interests, new loving memories. He drinks his wine and senses the final flame be collected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Troupe Master Grimm is dying. He cannot stop it or put off his final rest any longer. The summoner ever silent will come with the charm and he will have the power required to burn the phoenix for the next cycle to begin anew. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, little ghost. You are so old yet your mind is so very young and innocent.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thinks. He grieves, though not for himself. Never for himself, he will always live on through the Heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He always mourns those who he knows will be left behind. So many glorious dances, such delightful children this time. The knight rests without the charm on and Grimm perches, hanging and calls the Grimmchild to him. A little magic here and there. In dreams, they both can speak. A rare thing to do between past and future vessel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Huh? Awake? Where is blessed?" The high voice of the Grimmchild echoes through the dream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They rest, as do I. You burn so bright, little one. I know this is uncommon but things are not as expected here. The summoner this time faces off against the goddess of dreams and that is no easy battle." Grimm smiled. "And once the battle begins between the summoner and I, we will never be able to speak."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This.. not right?" The Grimmchild sounds worried. "Trouble?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, very big trouble-but not trouble for me. I am beyond trouble. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> trouble." Grimm laughed. "As you will be once you are of age. For all the men, women and those between and other of all the lands." </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>The Grimmchild stuck out their tongue and blew a raspberry. "Trouble! Burn!" They stop. "Why talk in dream? Talk through heart later?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. That was true, in a sense but-"It's not the same. That is all the Grimms before you. I care a great deal about you and the summoner. As your father and… if only I were the summoner's father. There's not time enough for that, for either of us. So you'll have to love enough for the both of us, vessel to vessel in my place. Siblings growing up. It'll be a new experience for a Grimm and you'll be different. The little knight will need you, they've been alone for a very long time, even if the memories of that are distant and fragmented. The heart will of course, watch over you and I, too-" Grimm's throat grew too constricted and he embraced the Grimmchild. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You both deserve so much more but I cannot hold on much longer." He spoke hoarsely through the barest of whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why?" The Grimmchild bumps at his hand. "Am bad?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. You aren't bad. You did nothing wrong, you don't deserve my death and I'm not leaving this life willingly but there's nothing to be done but love each other in this last dream. Never blame yourself. There's no blame to be found. Death is a natural, good part of the world even if it is painful." Grimm spoke gently. "As is life. And I want you to live the fullest life so that when it is your time, your bow into the heart is glorious and the tales you leave behind are burned into this world as mine were."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Love you too, papa." The Grimmchild cuddled into the troupe master. "Will miss you and love the ghost lots."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grimm smiled. "That's the way. You'll cause fear sublime together someday, I just know it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence is alright with Grimm, holding his child one last time. The Grimmchild disappears as the knight awakens and he smiled as the dream and he began to fade together. "What a brilliant life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time for the curtain call.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Masks Falling Off (Hornet)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hornet in Deepnest, post-infection<br/>Requested by Heron. This does not take into account Silksong, as it was written before that game's release. Not enough is known about the game's story to say for sure beyond what is currently (as of 19 Feb 2021) known.<br/>Might continue this....</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stone plinth, so long carrying the slumbering form of her mother's corpse lay empty while the ghost of Hallownest faced the rest of the horrors in store. They show so little reaction to it all, staring or tugging for attention on the rare occasion or watching it offer geo to that odd singing mosquito for his maps. It-no, they-are now gone. She knows not how. Only that their skull lay cracked in two upon the floor of the temple. Her siblings are now gone and she had to get up and carry on.</p><p>As if nothing had happened. As if they had just been tools that completed a job. She'd picked up that shattered mask and its pieces, placing it into an unused bag, tying it closed securely. She starts walking and she has to keep walking and <em> not stop </em> because she has to be <em> responsible one. </em></p><p>She's their princess. She's the daughter of god and beast, the union of nation and Deepnest clans.</p><p>She's numb as she explains things to the Elderbug in Dirtmouth. Asking him to be ready for any survivors and that it is now safer to wander but that she'd rather people not disturb the rest.</p><p>Hallownest is a tomb. She is among the living dead.</p><p>She runs across the thorns, her pads protected provided she doesn't spend long enough to let them sink in. She doesn't know where she's going until she arrives to the distant village. She doesn't see, she just runs and runs through any wild creature who dares approach her with graceful precision. She sets the bag beside the plinth. She gathers things her mother made that survived the stasis upon the plinth, placing them and sets seals of protection and preservation upon them. She keeps the remains of her mother's murderer on her as she goes about trying to find survivors. </p><p>She checks houses, finds dead Hallownest bugs drained of their vital fluids and sighs at the cannibalism but moves on quickly. She'll give them to the Resting Grounds later. She finds a few spiders. No weaverlings, the survivors are all gone. She finds the Midwife. She gathers them in the Beast's den and she takes a seat upon the bar set up for 'guests' that the den entertained before tying them up for consumption or killing. She's not going to try to be larger than them. She knows she is tiny before them. "Herrah the Beast died in service of defeating the infection. Some of you may have been freed by the actions that led to such. In her absence, I am in charge. I'm sane enough and her daughter. As princess of Hallownest, Deepnest retains its independence once I choose a regent whose sanity isn't questionable. I do not know the lifespan my sire granted me, as the stasis kept many bugs from aging properly within the kingdoms. You may notice I have not yet attained my final moulting.</p><p>"In the meantime, there are few of us, few bugs in Hallownest and too much to do. There will be absolutely no cannibalism of living beings. Eat the dead if you will, they are too dead to care. Gather up survivors and show everyone we are the most intelligent of species. I have my honors to pay for the one who saved what's left. Hallownest is finished. There are no true heirs, despite me being called princess. Deepnest is finished, there are too few to call this a kingdom. We can only band together to survive, as a new people. We lack a god but we've <em> never </em> needed gods. If anything has ever helped us, it was the shadows. If we must worship anything, let it be the darkness that birthed the one that slew the scourge that destroyed the kingdom. I will accept any duels from those who disagree with these orders once I have done what I can to honor the honorable dead." Hornet spoke tersely. "Anyone want to step up now!?" She snapped.</p><p>All present shook their heads. "Good. I shall return."</p><p>She traveled through the labyrinth, taking circuitous routes to where she needed to go. It was fine if she wasn't where she needed to go immediately. She was sweeping it for survivors, right? And she needed to slow because Deepnest was <em> dangerous-and so was she. </em> Her needle found plenty of pray that went into her hunting bag, once drained of hemolymph. She rubbed her hands against the metal of her weapon as she came close to the failed tramway, the black egg the Mask Maker resided in still noisy with activity. He was still alive-that was good, right? </p><p>She felt cold and drained as she walked in. "I have a mask for someone that needs repair. I know you don't usually repair masks for the dead, but if anyone deserves it, it's this one." She untied the bag and set it before the Mask Maker.</p><p>"Hmmmmm, yes I can repair indeed for a memorial to the kingdom. Yes, Hallownest contains many secrets. This mask is much too small for the one it belonged to now. Such contrast the Wyrm conceived, yes. Curious, mmmmm curious." He began to collect the pieces, grinding the smaller bits, adding ceramic and bits of water. "Sit, Gendered Child. You tire and your body is seeking release one way or another. This repair will take a while."</p><p>She collapsed into a corner, her numb hands releasing her needle. She felt ridiculous. Release? What release? She had done <em> nothing. </em> She had let it all go to <em> ruin. </em> She let out a quiet sob. She hadn't wanted the little ghost to die-why? She had hardly known them! Her siblings, they were-the tears started to fall. Was this what was left? Was this what the scales of fate given her? A lonely throne of an already damned kingdom born out of shame and blood?</p><p>She began to cry for the sealed vessel, who had never even had a chance to live and explore. The one she'd tried to play with and could hardly remember, same as her mother. She cried for her mother. She cried even for her father and she cried for the little vessel who'd sacrificed themself for everyone. Finally, she cried for herself, until she had no more tears to shed. Her hands no longer felt numb and she felt wrung out, yet <em> clean. </em></p><p>"None of this was my fault, or in my control." She spoke to herself. "Let the darkness take this guilt and eat it." She spat.</p><p>"It loves to eat things like that. The Lord of Shades is very kindly when wakeful, pale princess." The Mask Maker chattered.</p><p>She frowned as he held out a helm much larger than the tiny grub-sized broken mask she'd given him. "What is this?" She demanded.</p><p>"Your sibling's mask, of course." He said, his cheerful voice.</p><p>It had more horns. More eye holes. Larger. It filled her with a strange dread. "My sibling is dead. They aren't about to grow and I want to remember them."</p><p>He laughed. "Mmmmm, curious, curious. Child of Wyrm, your larger sibling certainly does rest eternally, released from their pain." He held to her a small replica of the Hollow Knight's mask. "But the other is not a vessel any longer. They are the void and the Lord of Shades wakes. You go get them and go raise your new kingdom." He held out a strange cloak. "This will protect you from the privations of the abyss for a time. But you won't care once it's too long. It'll feel like home and you'll love your sibling even more." </p><p>"Deepnest is my home!" She snapped.</p><p>"Has it ever been? Truly?" He queried.</p><p>She snatched the replica, mask and cloak. "I'll see what you are talking about. I shall have words if it is a fool's errand you send me on." She snarled. "I do not suffer distractions well."</p><p>"Oh, but daughter of Hallownest. I only live to serve, not trick, it is all for a world deserving." He spoke with a surprising compassion. "Those without faces, those who need. A focus. To exist. The masks provide such a thing and those called to me deliver. You should not tarry longer."</p><p>She fled there, thoughtful. Maybe there was hope yet.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Kingly Shadows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ghost confronting the Pale King, as requested by Ankh in the comments!</p>
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    <p>
  <em> No cost too great. </em>
</p><p>The king still glowed once the nameless vessel got to him in the trap-filled White Palace. While the cast-off shell was empty, this… this was not. They were so tired from the traps, so <em> angry and so ready to kill </em> yet here was this body. This shell of a bug. Was he dead? Alive? Hollowed by void? Poking him with the dream nail just gave the same excuses over and over. <em> No cost too great. </em> What did that even <em> mean? </em></p><p>Was the knight a price to be paid for this man's mistakes? Wild thoughts of rage, of murder, of accusation and nothing could pass to this man. Ghost sat next to the throne, tugging on the limp arm, pressing it to their forehead. The king's brand on their shell burned. The half of the kingsoul they had, that they fought the Traitor Lord for, that Cloth had died fighting beside them against-and here they were.</p><p>In most timelines, the king never moves. Why? Who could ever tell. In this one, the hand caresses back, just the smallest bit, showing a spark of life. The knight rose and touched their forehead to the king's. Weak thoughts pass to the knight.</p><p>
  <em> We don't have much left to give. We withheld so much and now, it's wasted. The one forgotten who rose from the ashes came to make right the one We ached to hold but didn't. We told ourself that it would have doomed us all. That it was worth saving the kingdom for one child. </em>
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  <em> We couldn't even admit they were a child yet we both loved each other. We can feel your hate now, so close-but that child's wish for father, for mother. We are sorry, but we cannot give that to you, being so close to death. </em>
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  <em> Instead we give all we have left. An apology. The love we have left. This other half of our soul-the whole, now that we see Root's half. Ah-how. How fitting, you even have the brand. You are my child and heir indeed. We give the blessings we have left. Please. Release us. Ourself and your sibling both. We… no, I deserve your hatred.. Death is… easy. A welcomed friend, now after such a long life and such a long time alone. </em>
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  <em> It was too great. None of you deserved the fates I forced upon you. </em>
</p><p>The knight puts the king's hands on their mask and lets the king caress them for the first and last time. To embrace their child, at least once. </p><p>The ghost of Hallownest stands up before the hollow king and pulls out their nail, ready for what must happen, to release all the pent up anger, hatred and violence. They stab the king through the thorax and start to mercilessly slice and beat the body until the horns and head crack, the body knocked out of the throne. The Pale King dies soundlessly and the knight just feels <em> tired. </em> There is no victory here. This was just the putting down of a ghost that had already died, same as the ghost warriors they'd already faced like No Eyes.</p><p>They sit on their father's throne for a long time, the King of Hallownest in their palace, alive and vital yet empty as the last. They get up and find the other half of the charm, feeling the pair unite and Ghost feels filled with soul and light in a way that sets their void on edge yet feels. Oddly right. Like something had been set right that had been left wrong for a very long time. The soul energy that Ghost struggled to get from blows to their enemies came easily. Yet despite it being their father's soul, they couldn't feel his mind. They don't even glow like him. They just felt more observant, more quick-witted and cautious-and with a moment of light, they found the palace disappearing around them.</p><p>The wreckage was all that was left before them and that was alright. The Wyrm was gone, the Pale King was simply no more, even if the vessel carried his heart. The vessel didn't even feel like referring to themself as male.</p><p>They were not their father, would never be their father.</p><p>Ghost was okay with that.</p>
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